


Remember: don't play with fire

by BlaCkreed4



Series: Maritombola 2020 [13]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Death Threats, Drugged Sex, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaCkreed4/pseuds/BlaCkreed4
Summary: Victor is a mobster and he has to remind a nosy PI to keep out of his business. What's better than threatening him through his boyfriend?
Relationships: Logan/Kurt Wagner, Victor Creed/Logan
Series: Maritombola 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054895
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Remember: don't play with fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for two Lande di Fandom's challenges:  
> -Maritombola, prompt: 29 - in an old house  
> -Explorers, prompt: same genre as my other teammates (we chose AU)
> 
> Also written for Banned Together Bingo, prompt: supports crime

Kurt was in his changing room, getting ready for his show. He had already worn his black satin speedo, but he hadn't decided what to wear above it yet.

He was looking through his costumes when someone knocked on his door.

"Kurt? Are you decent? There's someone who needs to talk to you."

The stripper recognized his boss's voice, and he noticed he sounded somewhat nervous. He decided to wear his red dressing gown, tying the belt tight to cover as much of himself as possible.

"I'm coming!"

He glanced in the mirror and fixed his hair before opening the door.

"Yes?"

He smiled, hiding his worry for his boss's expression, and looking at the huge man in a tailored suit behind him. He couldn't help but suppress a shiver when he met his cold yellow eyes.

"What can I do for you, mister...?"

"Creed."

Kurt froze, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

Victor grinned, gently grabbing the stripper's chin to move his head and study his features. He nodded to himself before letting go.

"You ever thought 'bout makin' more money with that face?" he asked.

"Oh, I considered acting, but I fear not many directors look for someone like me."

Creed snorted.

"Not what I meant. I know you make good money here, an' I bet a lot of your clients would happily get in your pants." He moved the edge of the gown to get a peek of the stripper's toned body. "I would, anyway."

If he hadn't known how dangerous that man was Kurt would have told him to fuck off and called the security, but he knew better than make a scene. He carefully covered himself back.

"I'm not interested in prostitution, thank you. I like dancing and I can afford to live how I want." His tone was firm and cold, but anyone perceptive would catch the lingering fear underneath.

"Let's discuss 'bout my offer somewhere more quiet," Victor said, wrapping and arm around Kurt's waist to pull him away.

The latter calmly moved that arm away from himself.

"I'm sorry, but I already refused your offer. And I have a show in a few minutes anyway."

Creed raised an eyebrow and looked at the third man, who gulped.

"I'll find a substitute right away," he said before glancing apologetically at Kurt and leaving.

When he was gone, Victor grabbed the stripper's shoulder and loomed over him.

"You ain't got a choice, _Nightcrawler_. I _own_ this place, I decide who stays. An' I can fire you any time." He straightened his back, smirking. "So. Let's go talk somewhere else."

Kurt was tense and scared, but he knew he had to obey or it would only get worse. Maybe he could still reason with him and get out of that awful situation.

"I'll change into more proper clothes then," he answered. "And... I have to tell my room-mate not to pick me up from here."

Creed snorted, wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist again.

"Room-mate, sure. He'll find us anyway, he knows where to look."

The stripper's heart sank at that; Logan had warned him it could happen, but he never thought it actually would.

Logan parked in front of the night club and walked inside, like he always did when he finished working before his boyfriend. He greeted the bouncer and went straight for Kurt's changing room, but he was stopped by his boss.

"Ah, Logan! Kurt's not here," he nervously explained.

The PI frowned, checking his phone; he could have missed a text or something. Nope, nothing there.

"But he hasn't texted me."

"That's because..." the man looked around suspiciously, then he leaned closer to Logan and whispered in his ear. "The boss picked him up."

"What d'you mean 'the boss'? Ain't that you?" Howlett was worried now, a deep gut feeling told him it was bad.

"I'm just the manager. The owner is... Victor Creed."

Logan froze, terror washing over him like an icy shower.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know where they went..." the man kept looking around, but he glanced at the PI too.

"An' you let him take him?!"

Logan grabbed the front of his shirt, looking threateningly at him.

"What else could I do? I have a family!"

Howlett took a deep breath and let him go. He couldn't lash out at that poor bastard, he knew what it meant to fear for his loved ones. His heart sank at the thought of what that piece of shit could do to his Elf; he had to find him. Now.

He ran out, getting back on his car and driving away. He knew where to start looking, there was no way he could forget the place of his nightmares.

It took him the better part of an hour to reach that place despite speeding way above the limit.

From the outside it looked like an old abandoned house, but Logan knew it was Creed's secret torture base.

He knew that bastard was expecting him, so there was no point in being stealthy; he stopped the car right beside his limo, jumping out and running for the door.

When he opened it he couldn't help but shiver, the horrible memories of his stay flashing before his eyes.

He forced himself to walk inside, keeping his hand on his gun as he carefully looked around.

In front of him, at the end of the short corridor, there were stairs going both up and down. His instinct told him to go down, where he himself had been tortured, but the lack of guards made him wary and prevented him from rushing.

He peeked through a door that opened on a living room, and he saw him: Creed. The bastard was sitting on an armchair in front of the lit fireplace, chilling with a glass of liquor in his hand; he smirked when their eyes met.

"Ah runt, welcome back. You took your sweet time gettin' here," Victor greeted him.

Logan growled.

"Where's Kurt? What have you done to him?"

Creed sipped from his glass without looking away, studying the PI like a predator would do with a prey.

"He's still alive an' well, if that's what you're askin'." He pointed to an armchair in front of him. "Sit."

Logan stepped inside, pointing his gun at the mobster.

"Where's Kurt?" he asked again.

Victor chuckled, leaning back against his armchair, putting his feet on a footrest.

"If you shoot, my men'll kill him."

The PI gritted his teeth, but he was forced to put his gun back in its holster. He still kept his hand on it, though.

Creed pointed at the other armchair again and Logan had to obey and sit down. At that point the mobster put his feet back on the carpet and poured another glass of liquor for Howlett.

"Before we start talkin', I'll let you know that my men are instructed to kill you on sight if I ain't with you. An' they'll kill your boyfriend too. So I suggest you _behave_. Understood?"

"Yes," Logan growled.

"Good. Hand me your gun," Victor ordered.

The PI hesitated. That whole situation sucked, but at least he was armed. He didn't want to lose that too.

Creed glared at him, his hand extended.

"One word from me an' my men'll kill him," he reminded the other.

Howlett slapped his gun in his nemesis's hand.

"It's registered," he grumbled.

"So're mine."

Victor opened his jacket to put Logan's gun in an empty holster and the PI noticed he had two more just on that side of him. There was no way he could take him down now.

"Where's Kurt?" he asked again.

The mobster snorted.

"You're still as stubborn as before. He's here. I'll bring you to him later." He stared straight into Logan's eyes, making him shiver. "I was just wonderin' if you remembered our little deal."

Howlett leaned forward, his face a grimace of rage.

"You mean your _threat_. Yeah, I remember."

"Good. 'Cause I’ve not forgotten either. Consider this whole situation a... peaceful exchange of intent."

"Peaceful my ass."

Creed grinned.

"I haven't beaten you up. I'd call it peaceful."

"So? What d'you want from me? I've stayed away from your business, what else d'you want?" Logan growled.

"Just to be sure you keep doin' it." Victor sipped some more liquor. "Y'know, killin' your girlfriend was necessary, but a waste. She could've made me good money on the street or the black market."

"You piece of shit!"

The PI couldn't help but jump up to punch him in the face, but Creed was ready and kicked him in the stomach to make him sit again.

"Easy runt, remember who you're here for," he warned him.

Logan growled and glared at him, massaging his own stomach. It hurt like hell, he hoped he didn't break a rib.

"Anyway, you stay out of my business I stay out of yours. Easy-peasy. We got a deal?" Victor said.

"As if I had a choice." Howlett grumbled.

The mobster grinned again.

"I knew you weren't dumb."

He clinked his glass with the other's, that was still untouched, then he gulped what remained of his liquor.

"Drink up, you need to calm your nerves," he mocked him.

"I don't want anything from you," Logan replied.

"Drink it."

They glared at each other for a few seconds, but in the end Howlett was forced to give up and do as he was told. He gulped the whole glass, tasting some bitter aftertaste, and he feared he knew what it was: drugs. The bastard had spiked his drink, and he couldn't even spit it.

"Good boy," Creed mocked him again.

He stood up, promptly followed by Logan, and he placed a hand on his shoulder as he leaned on him to whisper in his ear.

"I think you know the way."

He was grinning when he straightened up, amused by the way the other stiffened under his touch.

"After you," he added, gesturing at the door.

Logan had to use all of his willpower first in order not to punch that bastard, and second not to run to the basement. Instead, he rigidly marched out of the living room and down the stairs, checking for the other's footsteps to make sure he was following him; he hadn't forgotten the threat to Kurt's life if he was to go alone down there.

He could hear Creed's men laugh and chat as soon as he turned the last flight of stairs, but they stopped when they heard footsteps.

"Boss? Is it you?" one shouted.

"Yeah," Victor replied from behind Logan.

Howlett could hear the noise of guns put away, and he couldn't help but fear what would have happened if he hadn't stopped to talk to Creed, horrible images of dead Kurt flashing before his eyes.

When he could finally see them he quickly counted half a dozen men, way too many for him to deal with without losing his boyfriend. He was suddenly glad he hadn't blindly followed his instincts.

Victor grabbed his shoulder to stop him right before the cells' corridor, preventing him from getting in.

"I think you boys deserve some fun. Go upstairs, use any girl you like. My treat," he said.

They all cheered and thanked him, rushing up the stairs.

Logan was stiff and nervous under Creed's touch, and as soon as the men's footsteps disappeared upstairs he could hear some heavy pants; he immediately recognized the voice as Kurt's.

The mobster let go of him after a few seconds, smirking in amusement by his sprint towards what had been his cell a few years before then. He calmly followed.

Howlett froze in front of the bars as his eyes met his boyfriend: he was kneeling on the floor, his ankles chained to it, both his wrists and tail tied above his head. He was wearing nothing but his black satin speedo and the cross hanging from his neck. He was looking down, shivering and softly whining.

Victor expected the runt to get mad, but boy if it was funnier than he had expected! The runt literally roared and tried to punch him, which actually turned out to be helpful for Creed since he was able to trap that hand and the following one into his grip. His victim shouted insults and curses while struggling to get free.

"Lo-Logan?" Kurt panted, raising his head.

The PI's focus immediately turned towards him, his furious expression becoming worried instead; Creed didn't let go of him, though, not yet.

"Hey, Elf," Howlett's tone was sweet, trying to mask his fear with reassurance. "I'm here to get ya out."

Nightcrawler half-smiled, his mind too foggy to realise what was going on around him.

"Let him go, you bastard!" Logan growled at Victor again.

"Not yet." Creed loomed over the other, grinning. "Let this be a warning: next time you meddle in my business you're dead. But him..." he gestured with his head at Kurt. "He'll pay me back in your place."

Logan shivered at that threat, the thought of his lover being drugged and abused until he wouldn't make enough money anymore haunting him, even more so after seeing him in that state.

"Now, if I ain't wrong, and I ain't, _your_ dose'd be kickin' in," Victor purred.

He didn't give the PI time to process his words before pushing him face first against the bars, blocking him there with his whole body.

Logan struggled as he felt the mobster's hands groping him, but he could feel his body get warmer, his dick harden, his breath become heavier.

"I can't wait to feel your ass clench around me like last time," Creed lustfully whispered in his ear as he ground his hips against the other's ass. "An' this time you'll like it too."

"You fuckin' disgustin' perv!" Logan growled.

Victor laughed at the insult, grabbing Howlett's growing bulge and massaging it.

"I ain't the only one."

The PI couldn't suppress a shiver and a moan, and it took all of his willpower to prevent himself from thrusting his hips towards the villain's hand. He was feeling the drug's effect on his mind, he was feeling the pleasure and need grow as he fought to keep his focus on the real reason why he was there. He looked at Kurt, at his dazed expression, his half-open mouth and unfocused gaze; he was looking at him, though, longingly, his whole body stretched towards him.

"Logan..." he called him again, his tone low and warm, needy and sexy, almost begging.

Howlett moaned, his dick reacting on its own accord at that sight and the sound of his lover's voice. He felt his self-control slipping from his grasp, like sand flowing down an hourglass, and like sand the more he tried to keep it the more he lost it. He didn't want to lose control, he didn't want to give in to Creed's perversion, but the more he fought it the more his body screamed at him to just fuck with whoever, his nemesis included.

Victor was getting so hard in his pants that it almost hurt; still he waited for Logan to stop struggling and begin to push his hips towards him before daring to undo the runt’s jeans. He leaned down on Howlett as he pulled his clothes down, sliding his hands up the other's thighs and cupping his balls with one hand while stroking his cock with the other. The PI's moans were music in his ears, his soft 'fuck' and 'there' and 'yes' mixing with his pants were making him feel even more powerful than before.

Logan grabbed the bars in front of him as the drug took full control over him, driving him crazy with arousal. He looked at Kurt, their hips thrusting in unison as the stripper mirrored him, an expression of absolute desire equal on both their faces.

When Creed let go of him and moved his hips away from his ass, Howlett couldn't help but groan in frustration and thrust back. The spank that followed made him moan in both pleasure and pain.

Victor chuckled, smirking in amusement and satisfaction at that reaction. He lowered his own trousers and freed his hard-on, rubbing it against Logan's lower back.

"You gotta get on your tip-toes, runt, I haven’t brought a crate for ya," he told him with a warm tone, although mockingly.

But Logan wasn't lucid enough lash out, his pride and common sense drowned by his arousal; he needed to fuck, and he needed it _now_. He did as he was told, holding onto the bars to stay in position, his legs spread and tense from the effort.

"Good boy."

Creed's smirk widened when he saw the other shiver and heard him moan for his words. Good to know.

He moved one hand back to Logan's dick, letting him fuck his fist while his other free hand went to the PI's ass. He pushed two fingers in without warning, but the way Howlett gasped and clenched around them showed anything but pain; his dick even started leaking, there could be no doubts he was liking it.

"You want my cock, runt? You want my big fat cock in your tight an' warm ass?" he asked as he moved his fingers in and out of him. "Lemme hear ya say it."

"Fuck..." Logan panted, thrusting his hips back and forth to meet the other's hand and fingers. "Fuck me..."

"Mh, it'll be enough for now."

Victor pulled his fingers out of him and guided his dick to Howlett's twitching hole, grunting in the effort of pushing it all in in that uncomfortable position, his knees bent for him to be able to get at the right height despite the other being still on tiptoes.

"Should've brought a crate," he muttered to himself when he was finally completely inside.

He didn't complain further though, too busy fucking Logan to care about it more than that.

The latter was moaning and cursing freely, his legs trembling and his knuckles whitening as the mobster's thrusts were so strong that he was repeatedly bumped against the bars, sometimes even lifted from the ground. In the back of his mind there was something nagging at his conscience, telling him it was wrong, that he shouldn't like the situation, that he shouldn't take pleasure from it, that he shouldn't chase his orgasm like that, but it was too weak against the drug's effects. He felt his climax get closer and closer, the hand on his dick sliding easily with all the pre-cum he was leaking, his balls lifting up and his ass clenching rhythmically around the other's cock.

And in that moment Creed's fist tightened around Logan's base, painfully, preventing him from shooting his load.

The PI howled in frustration, squirming, trembling from head to toe as he was still fucked mercilessly.

"Yeah... that's better..." Victor panted. "You wanna cum? I know you do. Beg for it!"

It took Howlett a few seconds to process what he was told, and a few more to gather enough breath to speak between moans.

"Please! Please, lemme cum!" he screamed.

He kept repeating it with every sliver of air he could get in his lungs, his eyes watering in frustration, his hands losing grip on the bars from his sweat, his legs giving up on him; he was still upright only because the mobster was still ramming inside him, their hips smacking against each other with a wet sound.

Logan's gaze focused for a moment, allowing him to see Kurt's rapture, his whole body stretched towards him, pulling on his bonds as much as he could, his lips parted and letting out soft gasps and moans as he waited for the smallest hint of pleasure he could take from his lover.

Howlett renewed his begging, feeling like his cock and balls were about to explode from too much pleasure.

Creed felt his orgasm approach faster as Logan's voice got hoarser and broke, letting go of his dick right before he himself climaxed.

The PI shouted and tensed from head to toe, clenching around the mobster as if he was trying to milk every last drop of his cum, his own load shooting out and splashing on Kurt's ecstatic face.

Victor let out a low growl as he thrust hard a few more times, his seed dripping out of Logan's hole as he filled him up.

Silence fell in the basement, except for the three men's panting and Kurt's soft whines and moans.

Howlett was still recovering from the strongest orgasm of his life when the mobster pulled out of him and let him go; he slid down on his knees, the fog in his head gradually evaporating. It took him a while to piece together his mind and realised what had just happened.

He quickly turned to face Creed - who had already fixed his clothes and lit a cigar - barking insults and curses at him.

Victor chuckled, looming over him and blowing some smoke in his face.

"You know, I kinda missed your ass," he mocked him.

Logan jumped up, but he stumbled in his own jeans and briefs and fell in Creed's open arms.

"Maybe I should keep ya for myself," the mobster rubbed it in as he helped him stand. "You've been such a good boy."

Howlett felt his whole face get on fire, pushing himself away from the other and leaning against the bars before pulling his clothes up. He winced at the faint pain in his ass, but when he straightened back up he glared at Creed.

"You've had what ya wanted, now let him go!" he growled.

"The cell ain't locked," Victor replied.

Logan felt even more mocked, but his first priority was still Kurt. He rushed inside, kneeling in front of him and feeling a pang of guilt at the state of his face, still confused and covered in cum. He tugged at the chains holding him still, but those were locked.

"Gimme the damn keys!" he lashed out at Creed.

"Now, is that the way to talk to the men who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?" the mobster taunted him.

"Logan..." Kurt called his boyfriend with a pleading tone. "Logan, please... please, touch me..." he begged.

The PI focused back on him, cupping his cheeks and looking at him in the eyes.

"Later, darlin'. Not here."

Nightcrawler sobbed, his eyes tearing up.

"Please... I need it..."

"What've you given him?!" Logan growled at the mobster, who was watching the scene in amusement.

"Same drug as you. Funny thing 'bout that, it lasts till you cum it out. Not easy to do if no one touches you. An' he's been like that for a few hours now, I'm impressed he started to cry just now," Victor explained.

Howlett felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, the fresh memories of his frustration coming back to him like a punch in the gut. And he feared that for Kurt it'd be tenfold worse than that.

"He's gonna lose his mind, 'specially after seein' _us_ cum." Creed rubbed it in.

Logan glared at him, but he looked worriedly at Kurt.

"I'm gonna get you out soon, then I'll do whatever you want, ok?" he promised in a reassuring tone, but his lover kept sobbing, his tears mixing with the cum on his face.

"Please, Logan... I can't... it's too much..."

"Gimme the fuckin' keys to these chains, you sick bastard!" Howlett shouted at the mobster.

"You mean these?" Victor made a key-chain spin around his finger. "First I wanna see the show."

The PI pressed his lips together in order not to lash out, too worried that if he attacked Creed Kurt would pay for it. He didn't have a choice, he had to do whatever that bastard wanted from him, even if it meant raping his lover. He was feeling sick already at the mere thought of it.

He turned to Kurt, kissing him softly and feeling him stretch towards him.

"I'm so sorry, Elf," he whispered on his lips.

He brought one hand right to his boyfriend's crotch, feeling dirty and disgusting for taking advantage of him like that.

Nightcrawler gasped and shivered, thrusting his head backwards and his hips forward. He desperately ground against Logan's hand, his painfully hard dick still trapped in his speedo and leaking pre-cum.

Howlett tried his best to hide him from Creed's view, but every time he checked the mobster had moved already to keep watching. He couldn't avoid it, so he tried to ignore him and focus on Kurt.

The latter was a moaning mess, his whole body shivering and covered in sweat, his lean muscles tense, his face an expression of bliss. His voice got even louder when Logan lowered his underwear to better masturbate him. He thrust his hips towards his lover's hand, his pre-cum helping it slide up and down with ease.

Logan grabbed Kurt's nape and forced him to press his forehead against his, preventing him from even noticing the presence of the mobster.

"You can cum, darlin', go on. Cum for me," he whispered.

He was using every trick he knew to give him as much pleasure as possible to free him from the drug's effect and from Creed's imprisonment.

It didn't take long for Kurt to reach his climax, shaking from head to toe and screaming while shooting his load. He promptly fell limp, losing consciousness from the exhaustion.

"Elf? Elf?" Logan called him, dead worried.

He cupped his cheeks to look at him, smearing more cum on his face, but he sighed in relief when he heard him breathe heavily.

Victor mockingly clapped his hands, smirking in amusement when Logan turned to glare at him.

"Nice show, runt, good job. Here's your tip."

He tossed the keys for Kurt's chains at him.

"See ya around, runt, you know the way out."

Logan caught the keys in mid-air and immediately freed his boyfriend. Then a thought flashed in his mind.

"Gimme back my gun!" he shouted at Creed.

"I'll deliver it to ya, don't worry!" the mobster replied as he walked up the stairs.

Howlett didn't have the time nor the will to argue with that asshole in that moment, too worried about Kurt's state.

As soon as he had unchained him he made him lay on the floor, checking him for any sign of abuse other than the restraints. He was relieved he didn't find any.

He fixed his speedo to cover him, looking around for something else, and he noticed in a corner his boyfriend's red dressing gown, so he wrapped it around him.

When he was sure Kurt was decently covered he picked him up, cradling him as he brought him back home with him.

He would never forgive himself for what his Elf had been through, for putting him in danger and hurting him. Guilt would gnaw at him every time he would think about it.


End file.
